Inducing Lyre
by Tune4Toons
Summary: On the dusty roads of the open plains, warriors alike travel towards the arena. By routine, a musician plays her lyre for those passersby. However, instead of going to the arena, she awaits to meet someone special halfway. — F/F


Author's Note: Just to disclaim, I'm running out of ways to say the same thing: I own nothing. This is [_shoujo-ai_]. If you're uncomfortable with that genre, the back button is there for your leisure.

You've seen plenty of Yaoi here, and now it's time for a Yuri (though more of just shojo-ai). I thought I was gonna wind up writing a Yaoi before this, but a certain fanfic request was given to me. What was done is done, and this is it. Enjoy~

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ळ-**ळ**-ळ-**ळ**-ळ-**ळ**-ळ-**ळ**-ळ-**ळ**-ळ-**ळ**-ळ-**ळ**

**Inducing Lyre**

**ळ**-ळ-**ळ**-ळ-**ळ**-ळ-**ळ**-ळ-**ळ**-ळ-**ळ**-ळ-**ळ**-ळ

A blonde woman in purple leaned on a tree by the dirt road, eyes downcast with her arms crossed. A scarf covered her face, leaving those who passed by incapable of seeing her expressions. It was almost that time of day again. She slowly counted the minutes in her head, bated with silent anticipation, if anyone could tell in the first place.

Footsteps crunched into the gravel. Her heartbeat started to race. Outside, the breeze brushed past the leaves. Expressionless. The woman's hands gripped the object in her hand tighter; a silver lyre. Then delicate fingers pulled the strings. _Pluck, pluck, pluck._

"What's this tournament for?"

"A good show of battles at the main arena. Perfect for our abilities. We're almost there; I guarantee it."

Two dusty swordsmen in blue capes and armour travelled past her. She glanced at them for a moment before returning to the strings of her lyre. The pounding in her chest died down. Too early. Her nails jerked each wire into sharp, blunt notes. Oddly enough, they came off harmonic, though only to the ears of the common, not her._  
_

"They thought I couldn't possibly survive a morrow of fighters," said one of the warriors, his red bristled hair stuck out like his wide hand gestures. "Kicking me out like that—"

"We should hurry to the arena," the other with a headband interupted, azure hair laid back. "Our opponents await us."

"Agreed. It's just nearby, after all."

Then the two left and continued walking straight ahead, never bothering to make a sidewards glance at the woman. She glared at them as they brushed past her. Each pluck on the instrument soon became slightly more forceful than she had intended.

How rude. No acknowledgement whatsoever.

She saw the red-haired one clasped a firm hand on the other's left shoulder; his blue cape fluttered with the heavy wind. "Our skills will easily outmatch those who face us! Come, friend. Let's go show them who's truly the champion."

Energetic, that man. And loud, while you're at it.

She closed her eyes as she focused on the lyre before her. _Pluck, pluck, pluck_. Why are they so different, men and women? So oblivious when they can be. Frustrating. Only focused on one thing while ignoring the rest. The woman remained in melody as she played on in thought. However, she couldn't deny it.

She was jealous.

Her ears shot up when she heard a new set of footsteps. _Clink, clink, clink_. Heavier armour, it appeared to be. The pounding in her chest didn't make the anticipation any easier. She tried to distract herself with more notes to play. No, she was already playing. That option was gone. The woman let out a chuckle and a sigh, turning to the right to see just who exactly it was. A figure in a metal suit travelled down the dirt road. Juxtaposed to the grassy field behind, the person took almost robotic steps. Left, right, left, right. And the woman began to strum. The countdown of minutes she had in her head had already since ceased.

She smiled under her scarf. It was that time again.

"Sheik. Nice to see you again." _Hm?_

Sheik came face to face with the helmet of the armour. The huntress. She wasn't expecting the figure to make the first move. Her heartbeat was rabid, yet calm. So she stopped playing. It was basically a routine now, Sheik and this huntress' meetings. They knew when to expect each other each time such as now.

"Samus, same to you. A lovely day here, isn't it?" Sheik tried to look through the glass visor, only to see the reflection of her own ruby eyes. "It's an awfully warm day today. Wouldn't it feel nicer to take that helmet off?"

The figure was silent, but then nodded. Metal hands were about to take it off when the woman held the person back.

"Allow me."

Sheik's slim fingers wrapped around the helmet, and it slid off with ease. Inside was the face she wanted to see. The slender face of a blonde woman with a ponytail stared back at Sheik with a calm composure. The breeze blew past them, cooling the light heat that rose up to the lyre player's cheeks.

"You must be here for the tournament again," Sheik said. "Is that right, Samus?"

Samus stood still. "Yeah, pretty much the same every time I come here."

"Take a break then." Sheik sat down against the tree, holding the instrument at her side, beckoning Samus to come.

Samus complied, just like the last time she came here, and sat down beside her. It was all the same routine— no. That was wrong. It was going to change today. Sheik knew there was something new to discover each day. She was determined to see that through.

Then again, Samus was never one to partake in a lot of small talk…

The lyre continued playing its melody. "I heard rumours of you winning the tournament for quite a number of times."

"Hear," Samus said, "or witness?"

"What makes you say that?"

"Who else stays in the corner of the stands and leaves before the victory ceremony?"

So sharp. A little unfair, don't you think? Sheik chuckled under her scarf and she looked at the woman beside her. Her fingers glided across the left arm of Samus' armour, where a small crack remained visible from when a sword had chipped it. _Could she feel it?_ Sheik wondered as she stared at the fragmented metal. Samus hardly came out of that shell of hers. It was only recently when she had managed to get her to take off that helmet.

The heat from the sun started to radiate a little stronger. "Isn't it hot under all of that armour?" Sheik asked.

"Isn't it hot under that scarf?"

"Touché," she said. Guess today wasn't that day either. "But I'm just a simple wanderer, though not as adept of a fighter as you."

Samus gazed at the lyre, then Sheik. "Why don't you participate in the tournament? You could probabaly get accepted in." She brushed the hair off of her shoulder. "I have never seen you fight before. It'd be interesting to see."

"I'm not one to enjoy being in the fray. It never ends well for someone."

_Strum_.

The lyre played on. The bandages on Sheik's arms remained red-stained. She leaned against the old stable tree trunk. The leaves held on despite the wind, though a few trickled down. A head of sweat formed on her face.

"So, what of the man I hear you've been seeing?" Sheik asked. Yet she was left unsure of whether or not she wanted to hear it. So she strummed a little louder.

"Oh, him. David is the same as always. Comes to the trailer slightly stoned— actually, it's hard to tell if he's stoned. Disoriented at times, but I'm not sure why. Would you happen to know what he does at night?"

Sheik could feel the needles rustling in her side pouch. "No, not that I've seen around here." _Strum_. "You know you are free to tell me if you wish to, yes? It's not good to keep your troubles bottled up." How ironic, for those words to come out of her mouth. Would Samus notice, Sheik wondered, the melody of her lyre?

Samus remained silent. She glanced at her companion for a brief moment before scrutinizing the clouds in the sky. Sheik managed to catch on, and set the instrument to the ground.

"You were arguing again, haven't you?"

"I hate how you could tell." Samus then sighed, leaning her head on Sheik's shoulder. "I'm just exhausted, really. Nothing a bit of rest couldn't fix."

"So why stay?" Sheik stroked the other's hair, following the ponytail all the way to the tip. "I'm very certain you're capable of doing better."

"Then who do you think would be better?"

She smirked as she pulled down her scarf. Her right hand cradled around the woman's cheek and she pulled her closer, their faces now mere inches away from the other's. Samus' eyes widened before she closed them, sucking in a silent breath, their lips seconds away from touching. Then Sheik slipped around to her ear, leaving Samus confused.

She muttered a devious whisper. "We've already done this before." She pulled back, hiding the smug smirk on her face.

"And that was supposed to prove your point _how_?"

"By telling you to find someone better."

Samus chuckled, taking her helmet back from Sheik's hands. "And maybe _you_ should quit offering the same thing."

"And perhaps _you_ should just accept it."

"Whatever the case, be sure to not mention this to anyone you see. I'll let it slide, but that doesn't mean I'm soft. I'd hate to give them ideas before they face me in the arena."

"Then how about you let me walk you there?" Her fingers intertwined with Samus', pulling her closer in. She let out a soft breath as she whispered, "It'd be nice to do something like this for once."

Samus sighed. "Fine. Just today."

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Down the dirt path, Sheik held on to Samus' hand as they travelled towards their destination. The road followed towards where a crystal dome housed their destination: the tournament. Just by its outskirts, the two arrived at a small villa on their way there. A cheerful feeling of accomplishment lingered in the musician's chest, though her face appeared no different. Each footstep mimicked the pace of her heartbeat. Albeit, it was calm for now, in stride with the relaxed walking.

Then a couple of voices disrupted her train of thought. Sheik pulled Samus over to the side, hiding behind a clay house. Peering from the corner, she noticed the voices belonged to the same two blue-armoured swordsmen from earlier.

"Sheik, what's going on?"

"Why don't we listen in for a while?"

"And why would—"

Sheik turned to face her. "Perhaps they are your opponents, no?" Then she pulled her closer in to whisper, "And it is a chance to learn a few things, wouldn't you say?"

"Learn about who? Them, or you?"

"Depends."

"So the one you have to watch out for is the one with the arm cannon," the red-haired one said to his companion. Sheik and Samus moved from their positions towards the corner to get a better listen. "Samus, remember that name. He's the one to watch out for."

"He?" Sheik said, amused. "Is it always customary for a warrior to be assumed male?"

"First time I saw you, I had the same impression," Samus said.

They continued watching the swordsmen with keen interest. The one adorned with a long headband was staring out at the dome in the distance.

The red one continued. "Defeat Samus, and the rest will be a breeze."

"Easy. I expect the title to be mine soon."

"There's probably no other man that can match your blade."

Sheik stared back at her own companion, musing, "But if there was a _wo_-man, perhaps she can."

"So how long do you plan to keep up these games?" Samus asked. "I hope this doesn't become a routine of yours."

"Until you tell me not to." Sheik held a small smirk as she stroked the other's cheek. "It's not polite to keep a woman waiting."

"If you knew me better, then you know you'd have to wait longer."

"And if you knew me better, my patience will always keep me around."

Samus moved Sheik's hand away from her cheek, holding it into her own. "Then why don't you just stick to walking me to the arena, like you promised?"

Her red eyes gleamed as her heart skipped a beat. "I was hoping you would ask."

The women left their hiding place as they walked into the open. They held hands as their fingers intertwined with one another. The swordsmen noticed the two. Both were curious, but had never realised that the huntress was the very warrior they had spoken of. Neither of the women cared. They travelled far down the road until they stood at the entrance of the dome. The towering gateways wecomed those who arrived.

Standing in front, Sheik turned around to face her companion. "We're here, as promised."

"I'll see you tomorrow then." An abrupt goodbye as usual. But no, not today.

Sheik took back her hand and reeled her in. "Who said you were getting the last word?"

Then she pulled her face close, lips nearly touching, only half-centimetres away. Then Sheik slipped to the right and pecked Samus' cheek with a light brush.

"Till tomorrow then."

Samus sighed and rolled her eyes. Then she turned around and walked towards the entrance. Sheik watched as Samus passed through the gates of the arena. Then she spun around, her feet leading her in the opposite direction. Her fingers rested on the strings of her lyre, and she played her melody.

_Strum_. Today seemed like a somewhat successful day.

If not, there was always tomorrow, right?

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Tune4Toons: Alrighty, this was a fanfic request by the late _Rex Aurum Tempus_ (before the whole…you know). And yes, I do requests, though the time it takes may vary. I can now at least tick "write a Yuri" off of that experiments list. Hopefully someone will remind me to do a Yaoi someday. XD

I'll admit it; this style is completely out of my element. Albeit I enjoy breaking the mould. I hope you enjoyed that nonetheless.

Feedback and criticism are appreciated as always. Peace! And happy readings!


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